


And Down We Go

by romanticizingchemicals



Series: Frerard One-Shots • romanticizingchemicals [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bottom!Frank, Frerard, Gay, Gay Smut, Kinky Shit, M/M, One-Shot, Prostitution, Sex, Smut, Top!Gerard, blowjob, club, i have no idea how else to tag this besides smut that's gay as fuck, my chemical romance - Freeform, not loving just fucking, that reference though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5881333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticizingchemicals/pseuds/romanticizingchemicals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>•part of the Frerard one-shot collection...hope you guys like this stuff•</p><p>Title Inspiration: I Never Told You What I Did For A Living, by My Chemical Romance (Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge)</p><p>xoromanticizingchemicals</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Down We Go

Another night of living hell. But that's just my job. 

 

Supposedly, you should do what makes you happy. You shouldn't work a job for the money. But unfortunately, that doesn't apply to me. I spend every night at the club, getting paid to create this concept of pleasure for various strangers through random sexual activities. Of course, this is prostitution on my part, but I can't find many jobs. With this many tattoos, no one wants to hire me, but I get pretty good money from this.

 

Tonight is just like any other night; I get mostly girls, but I'm open to guys as well. In fact, I'm pretty much gay, but the more customers, the more money. So I've gotten quite a few people, a majority of them drunk, wanting a "good time". I have to do whatever they say, whether it be a quick blowjob, rim job, or even a quick, sloppy kiss, I get money from desperate people trying to fill the void of their sexual needs. 

 

As I finish a handjob for a random guy who reeks of cat litter, he hands me a roll of money, hurriedly telling me to keep the change. I sigh and shove the money into my pocket, rubbing my temple.

 

I hate this job so much. 

 

I pick up my coffee cup, which is now cold and bitter, sipping absentmindedly from it. Another person steps through the door of the private room, and I grunt in irritation. But it turns out to only be my supervisor, who flashes me a questioning look. I set down my coffee and throw him a thumbs up, faking another smile. He nods and closes the door, the distant sound of loud music and people yelling disappearing. 

 

Then the common state of questioning my life choices falls over me, followed by yet another emotional breakdown. I lean on my thighs, my face in my hands, my whole body shaking with the dry sobs that can't stop. My whole life is a mess; I live in the sketchier part of the city, in a small apartment that I can hardly even manage to pay rent for each month. I spend my days working as a barista at a local coffee shop, and then as a salesman for a music store. By night, I work at a club where people pay me to basically have sex with them.

 

I should be concerned for my health, but I'm not. Granted all of my clients get checked for diseases and STD's, but having affairs every single night is not only affecting me physically, but also mentally and emotionally. The whole concept of love is foreign to be, because this job isn't loving; it's just fucking. My whole life is in complete utter ruin, and I don't have anyone to lean on. I spent my whole life hiding in the shadows, refusing to accept anyone's love or affection. That can't be good for my health, either.

 

Caught up in my emotions, I don't hear the knock at the door. I don't hear the footsteps. What I do feel is a shaking at my shoulder, and I'm suddenly thankful for the dimness of the room. My face is probably horrendous. I look up to see my supervisor, who decided to check on me _again_ over the time span of five minutes.

 

"Frank, I know this is tough," he says soothingly, his assuring hand rough on my bare shoulder, "but you need the money. You're struggling to pay rent and to keep jobs. I pay you to work for me, not to have these constant phases of life consideration. Look, if you need to leave early, I'll let you go in an hour or so, but I need you to make this money for you _and_ for me." His talk doesn't encourage me at all. Instead, it makes me want to punch his ugly face into his skull, but that'll definitely get me fired, so I simply nod and wipe my nose on my loose tank top. He smiles and leaves with a final pat on my shoulder, and I stand up as he closes the door again.

 

I bite back the sobs that want to erupt again, shoving them back down to my black little heart. 

 

Looking in the mirror and straightening my hair, I nod and make my way out to the main room, where a group of people are dancing, drinking, making out, and a whole bunch of other exotic things. From the room, which is up a staircase, I have a great view of everything. Strobe lights search the room, colorful lights dancing around. I swiftly glance over the crowd, using my instinctual sense of detecting sexual need in a room to search for my next client.

 

To find someone, I've gotten into a system of maybe offering them a drink or two, asking about them, and then getting down to see if they're looking for sex, by any chance. Or just a good time. And normally, people agree, and I get money. Sometimes, I'll find a person who I actually kind of like, but that's really rare. In fact, I've only found one person, but he was really drunk, so he realized that he'd made a huge mistake and apologized. 

 

I spot a man against the wall of the room, his hair bright red, a beer can in his hand. He occasionally sips from it, looking around the room. I debate over whether I should try to talk to him or not, because he's actually really hot, and I decide to try. I walk down the stairs and knit my way through the group of crazy, loud people towards the man. Judging by his appearance from far away, he looks to be in his mid-twenties, but I'm not too sure. I finally make it to his general area, and he looks over at me.

 

I feel my throat tighten, and I find that I can't speak. He smiles, and I recognize that smile. It's fake. It's a mask. It's that smile behind an "I'm fine" that's completely unreal. 

 

"H-Hey," I stutter nervously, waving a little. The man smiles and waves back, sipping from the can. "How're you? You look kind of lonely," I say, hoping that he can hear me over the music and people. He looks at his feet and then back up at me. "I'm okay. Just trying to take a break, y'know. Just wanted to blow off some steam," he explains, "I'm Gerard. What about you? You seem lonely, staying up in that room. It's dark up there." 

 

I chuckle and scratch my neck, biting my bottom lip. "Yeah. No, I actually work here. I'm not lonely," I admit slowly, "In fact, I feel really overwhelmed sometimes." Gerard tilts his head slightly, and then purses his lips. "I know how you feel," he replies as softly as he can to where I can still hear him, "I'm guessing you make people feel better about themselves." Something about that makes me smile. I make people feel better about themselves. If they can't get laid by anyone else, at least they have a harlot to fall to.

 

"If you look at it like that. I make people feel good in general. I mean, if you..." I start, but I can't finish. He'll think I'm some creep, so I stop, shoving my hands into the pockets of my black skinny jeans. Gerard crosses his arms, the can dangling from one of his hands. He's not drunk. He's not loaded. He's just normal. Hot, but normal. "You make people feel good. You make them feel good about themselves. I bet you're really good at what you do," he tells me, and I feel myself redden. How he already knows what I do, I'm not sure, but I take the compliment sheepishly. "Y'know, I think we should probably talk somewhere where it's quieter," Gerard says, and I suggest that we could go up to the room.

 

So we do.

 

Normally, the walk up the stairs is really quite embarrassing; people know what goes on behind closed doors. But Gerard just had this thing about him, where I don't feel uncomfortable making the dreadful journey to a sex room. Once inside, I close the door, locking it because I don't want anyone to walk in. My supervisor is probably going to try to get me to have more sex, so he's the main reason why I lock it.

 

"So," Gerard says awkwardly, not sitting down. I offer him a seat on one of the folding chairs that's laying against the wall, and we sit across from each other in silence. "Why do you do this?" Gerard finally asks, and I want to die. Just to die. No one ever really asks, but when they do, I want to just dig a hole and bury myself. "It's complicated," I reply quietly, but Gerard shakes his head. "No it's not. You don't like it, do you?" 

 

How can he just assume that I don't like my job? If I'm going to be honest with myself, I hate my job, but a random man cannot just come in and tell me my life story. "No, I don't like it," I decide, "But I don't hate it, either. I get some okay clients. Some people who aren't lost in their desire for sex and shit. But... I do it because I need the money." Gerard nods understandingly. "I used to work at a sex hotline building," he admits, slightly ashamed, "But I quit because it made me feel really uncomfortable." 

 

I laugh lightly, rubbing my arm. The room is hot and stuffy, but I suddenly feel kind of cold. A kind of chill. 

 

We sit in silence for a few minutes, and then Gerard sighs. "I came to blow off steam. I came to get away from my life. Maybe you could help me with that," he suggests, and I look up at him, really studying his face up close. His features are soft, his red hair constrasting against his otherwise normal appearance. "What could I do for you?" I ask curiously, clasping my hands together. 

 

My business mind kicks in, and my mind thinks to several ways that I could help this new client "blow off some steam". Gerard looks at his lap, thinking, and then looks back up at me. "Don't know. You tell me," he replies carefully, and I smirk. I know exactly how to make someone feel better. 

 

"Well," I say, standing up, "There are lots of things I can do. Different ways. Different positions. All depends what you like." Technically, I can't decide what I do to the client; they have to tell me. I fulfill every single one of those requests, because that's what I'm paid to do. Gerard looks up at me and smirks. "Hmm. So many... choices," he starts, crossing his legs, "I've never actually done much like this. Never been somewhere where I can actually have someone in my complete control. Doing whatever I want them to do." 

 

Something about that makes me shudder. I am in complete control of my clients. They tell me what to do, and I do it. That's a scary thought. Gerard bites his lip and nods, and then stands up. "How about a blowie to start off with?" he asks slyly, and I shrug. Just your everyday request. But coming from someone as understanding and kind as Gerard, it'd be better.

 

"Your wish is my command," I reply, and he backs up onto a bench against the wall. Most people like theirs against the wall, but Gee seems different. I take a deep breath and then kneel down in front of him, just like I do to every other client I have. 

 

The job gets old. It gets boring. Blowjob after blowjob, blow after blow, just stand after stand. Nothing ever changes, except the ages and appearances of every client, but I still do it because it pays well. What I wouldn't do for a better job...

 

"Go ahead," Gee says softly, and I nod, unbuttoning his pants. I notice that he's wearing skinny jeans, which makes me slightly more comfortable, because he's like me; he seems pretty musically inclined, judging by the tone in his voice and the David Bowie shirt he's sporting. Not many guys wear skinny jeans anymore, but Gerard doesn't have any piercings. Unlike myself, who has a lip ring and earrings. I scare people like that.

 

Unzipping his pants, I pull them down slowly, and he has to shift so that I can. He's already sitting, so he's making my job harder. But I can't complain. "How do you like it?" I ask him, pulling his pants down to his ankles, "Fast? Slow?" Gee shrugs carelessly, saying, "Either or. I have all night, so just whatever makes you comfortable."

 

I stop, my hands still at his ankles. No one has ever told me to do what makes me comfortable. Funny, coming from a guy who has the most uncomfortable job in the world, but "comfortable" really is a foreign word to me. I look up at him and smile, a new respect for Gee forming inside of me. I bite my tongue and I fold down the hem of his boxers, pulling them down to his ankles. Once again, he shifts so that the job is easier, and I nod at his length. It's definitely longer than a lot of other ones I've worked with; and it's in good shape. The worst clients are the creepy old guys, with members that look like deflated balloons or rotting cucumbers. Those make me so uncomfortable that I actually consider turning down a few of them.

 

Almost routinely, I place my hand at the base of Gerard's length, and use my other hand to run it along the length. I do this a lot, because most guys don't have a boner when they first walk in. Gee is easy to turn on, I notice, and soon, he has a full erection. I look up at him, and he's closing his eyes, gripping the sides of the bench. I smile and shift so that I can reach him, and I place my hands on the inside of his thighs. I run my tongue across his slit, and he immediately bucks, grabbing my hair for support. My hair is so used to being pulled that I barely feel it.

 

Leaning in further, I slide my tongue under his cap, enjoying the familiar taste. Not only can some clients relieve their stress like this, but so can I. Every now and again, the right customer will come along, and I'll actually enjoy myself. But no one so far has been as respectful as Gerard. I think he understands my struggle, since he did say he had a really awkward job working as someone from a sex hotline. Personally, I've never been into the whole verbal sex thing, but if it's what turns you on, go for it.

 

Gerard's breaths come in unsteady shakes, and I can feel him trembling. When he said that he hasn't done much like this before, I really guess he hasn't. Maybe I'm just that good at it. Besides, I've done more of these things than I could count. I continue to move closer to the base, taking him in further and further, tracing my tongue across the sides of his length. "Mm... Mm God," Gee gasps quietly, twisting my hair in his hands. I almost laugh, but hold the gales back. That would be really embarrassing and unprofessional, so I need to avoid laughing. 

 

I bite playfully, because that seems like something that Gerard would like, and he yelps like a startled cat. At that, I giggle slightly, which may be better, because it sends vibrations though Gerard. He moans loudly and bucks, his length hitting the back of my throat. I won't lie; I practice this at home. With my vibrator. I have to, if I want to get used to it, but mouth fucking is something I'll never get used to. It's definitely one of the best parts of giving someone a blowjob.

 

I let an involuntary moan escape my mouth, causing Gerard to throw his own head back and cry out. He's shaking, sweating, moaning... A complete mess, but easily moldable. I pull back when my face hits the base of his length, and I breathe deeply without that gasping need for air. After so many times, you can hold your breath for quite some time. 

 

Gerard untangles his hands from my hair, and runs them through his own. I really like his hair; the bright red shines in the dim light of the room, and I really enjoy the mood it creates. I let him recollect himself, and I stand up, wiping my mouth off. I didn't let him cum because I know that he wants more than just a blowjob. Most people do. 

 

"How... How do you even do that?" Gee asks, exasperated, "Like, you're fucking porn star material. That was incredible. I've only had like one blowjob before this, and the guy sucked. He was awful compared to you." I laugh and scratch my neck. "Practice makes permanent," I tell him, amused at his surprised state. 

 

After Gerard catches his breath, he pulls back up his pants, but doesn't buckle them. I imagine that it's probably really weird doing this for the first time, but you have to start somewhere, right? "Did you like that?" I ask slowly, smiling. He nods hastily. "It'd be mad fucked up if I didn't. You're great. No wonder people pay you so well," Gee compliments, and I smile even wider. I rarely get such kind comments on my "skills", but Gerard really knows how to touch someone in that way.

 

"Anything else, then?" I reply, shoving my hands in my pockets. Gerard brings a finger to his chin in thought, and then nods twice. "I think so," he says, and my heart jumps. I like working for Gee; he's respectful, generous, and really, really hot. The whole package. "Do you top or bottom?" he asks curiously, and I cross my arms, looking at the ground. "Doesn't matter to me. I told you, I do what my client wants," I reply emotionlessly, "I can't choose. If the client likes the feeling of power, I'll bottom, but if they like being overpowered, I'll top. Either way, it's for the customer, not me." 

 

Gerard looks at me sadly, like he realizes how little power I have, because I literally have no control over _anything_ I do. The is always in control. But it's been that way my whole life; I was really a pushover in my younger years, and I often found myself slipping deeper and deeper into depression. My life really isn't the best, and he definitely sees that now if he didn't when he first walked in. 

 

"Y'know what?," Gee decides, putting his hands on his hips, "I'll top. You need a break from tops, because I'm pretty sure that you top all the fucking time." It's true; I do top a lot. Not too many people come here _to_ fuck someone; they come to _be_ fucked. I nod and wait for Gee to move me where he wants me, since I'm going to bottom. That's a rare, special occasion, being on the bottom, but it's fun nonetheless. 

 

Gerard points to the bed with one hand, the other on his hip. Sassy, is he? I smirk to myself and walk over, placing myself on the edge of the bed. I can't help but notice that Gerard still has a full erection, and that he probably needs to reach his orgasm. That'd blow off some steam for sure. 

 

I cross my legs, waiting. Gerard is looking me up and down, probably trying to figure out some position. I point to a small cardboard box in the corner, which, amongst my comics, are some books on sex and toys and positions and all that shit. "That's my box of secrets. I get all my knowledge from there. If you're looking for a position, look for a book in there. There are lots," I say softly, and Gerard nods. He decides to follow my advice, and flicks through the many books. He stops at one, scrutinizes it, and looks at me, holding it up questioningly. 

 

"Really?" he asks, and the book in his hand just happens to be that stupid, porn-filled Manga book some chick had left once. Okay, fine, I've flipped through it a few times, but it's absolutely vile. And that's coming from me. It's fucking disgusting. "Some gal left it a few months back. It's not mine," I explain, and he gives that small, disbelieving "mhmm". I roll my eyes, and he keeps looking. He finally pulls out a book full of my favorite positions, which is written by some sort of sex position developer. 

 

No one ever looks in the books, because I normally work in one position: awkward. It's either on top or behind, and rarely anything other than those. 

 

Gerard flips through the book, and then raises his eyebrows at one. "Who the fuck can fit into these positions? Contortionists?" I laugh unattractively, snorts and all. I have the same thought looking through some of the books I have, but I don't ever really try out many positions anyways. "There are a lot of really cool ones in here that we should probably try out, but I like it basic and straightforward... I'm not the most flexible person," Gee says truthfully, and then puts the book back. I nod as he stands up and walks over to me. 

 

"Ready?" he asks, and I nod, leaning back slightly. Gerard looks around the room, for what, I'm not sure, but I decide I should probably help him out a little bit. "Lube's over there," I say, pointing to a small black box underneath a stack of papers, "Condoms over there." Gee nods, and goes for the lube, but not the condoms. Natural. I like him. I like it natural, actually.

 

"You don't mind if I don't use a condom, do you?" Gerard asks casually, but of course, it comes across as awkward, "Obviously I don't have any diseases... No STD's... But just... Putting a condom on it like putting a plastic bag on, which is weird for me." I shrug, because I really don't mind. Gerard sighs with relief and smiles, setting down the small bottle of lube on the bed. I lay down and relax my body, so that if Gerard _does_ need to shift me around, he can do so with ease. I hear him take a deep breath, and he looks down at me. 

 

I realize that I still have all of my clothes on, but Gerard definitely looks like he wants to take them off. When he sees that I'm waiting for him to do so, he pulls me back up into a sitting position, pulling my shirt over my head and revealing my many tattoos. His eyes widen, and he begins to trace my tattoos with his index finger, which is surprisingly cold.

 

"They're gorgeous," he mutters, admiring the ink. I nod in agreement, saying, "Yeah. They're all real special to me... Got this one with one of my friends. And this one is of one of my favorite bands." I point to some of my tattoos and explain their meanings, and Gee nods. I've probably talked enough, so I stop talking, and Gerard places my shirt on the post of the bed. I try to recall the last time I cleaned the sheets, which was probably last night, but I can't be too sure. I always forget, but they smell decent enough.

 

Gerard then unbuttons my pants, which really turns me on for some reason, since I'm watching him with anticipation. He notices the growing bulge in my pants and smiles, even chuckling softly. "You're really easy to turn on," he notes, and I blush. "I mean, not normally... To be honest, you're just a really hot guy who has the ability to give anyone a boner by just eye-fucking them," I say casually, and Gee unzips my pants. He giggles and pulls them down, past my feet, and sets those on the bed, too.

 

He finishes by removing my boxers, and my length springs free. Given the fact that I'm really short, my length isn't the longest. It isn't the prettiest. But I could care less, since I'm pretty much great in every other department. For example, I have the best butt I've ever seen.

 

Gee likes it, though, and he stares at it for a few seconds. I think I may sense some regret, or some second guessing, so I decide to put that to rest. Out of nowhere, I grab Gerard's chin and pull him into my lips, and we kiss passionately for a while. By passionate, I mean that tongue, biting, the whole nine yards... They're all included. I pull back and close my eyes, trying to remember the last time I kissed anyone like that. Never so hot, never so... _meaningful_. "I-I'm sorry," I quickly apologize, but Gerard shakes his head. 

 

"No, no, that was... That was great. I haven't kissed anyone in a really long time. It's never been so... real. Never been so real, you know," he says, and I smile. Same here, Gee, same here. Gerard nods and pulls his pants back down, along with his underwear, his own length hard and ready to go. He pulls his shirt over his head and leaves it on the ground, and then takes a steadying breath. "Okay. I haven't done this many times. Just once. Just once. So forgive me if I'm not any good," he warns, and I smile and shake my head. 

 

"You'll be great. You'll be a sexy little slut," I reassure him, and he bites his lip. After a few seconds of collection, he nods and approaches me again, turning my over onto my stomach. My legs hang off the side of the bed, touching Gee's bare thighs, and I grip the sheets. I've been on the bottom before, so I know what to expect. But each person is different, so Gerard probably has a different style. Out the corner of my eye, I see Gee grab the bottle of lube, and I hear him unscrew the lid and apply some to his hands.

 

Preparation. Foreplay is definitely the most important part of sex if you aren't already stretched out, which I am. In fact, I'm _very_ stretched out. My vibrator is actually pretty big, and that thing is up my ass every single night. If not at night, during the day, but it's like flexibility; you have to get into a habit in order to maintain being stretched out. 

 

"So, I'm gonna start now..." Gerard alerts me awkwardly, and I nod. Carefully, Gee slips one of his fingers into my hole, and I don't move. It's like poking a skinny twig down an anthill; I can't really feel anything. Gerard moves his finger around. "You're actually really loose. You're really stretched out. I don't know what I expected," he muses, sliding in another finger besides the first one. Again, I don't feel much pain, but having actual human fingers poking and prodding at you is different then a large, vibrating stick-like figure shoved up your butt.

 

After stretching out his fingers a few times, Gerard slides in two fingers at once, which only stings a little bit. I bite my lip to prevent me from wincing, and Gerard takes his fingers back out. I actually like that. Really like that. I like having someone to order me around, but having someone who's kind and gentle who orders you around is just as great.

 

Gerard flips me back over onto my back and smiles at me, gently massaging my lower abdomen. "I should've come earlier. This is great," he says eagerly, and then he walks around to the other edge of the bed, where feet normally are when you go to bed, dragging me around that way with him. He pulls me closer, to the point where my inner thighs are touching his thighs, and he bends my legs into a squatting position. It's weird, but I remember it from the book.

 

He shifts and lines himself up, and I realize that his length is covered in a generous layer of lube. I close my eyes and draw a shaky breath, and I feel Gerard's length push into me. I let out a low, quiet moan at the stretch, as though four fingers wasn't enough. He grips my waist, though under my legs, and thrusts again, sending pain signals through my body as he pushes in further. I cry out softly, gripping the sheets, and he pulls out again. When you first start, things are definitely really awkward. The slippery, sweaty, uncertain stage of sex is very weird, but once you fall into rhythm, it gets better.

 

After a few more painful thrusts and cries, the pain turns to pleasure, as it normally does, and I throw my head back while moaning. The further he pushes, the louder a moan. The quicker he thrusts, the faster my moans come. Basically, a whole bunch of "uh, uh uh" sounds fill the air, along with the noise of the collision of the two upper posts of the bed and the wall. Gerard's panting also begins to quicken, as his orgasm approaches, and he suddenly hits my prostate with a quick but pleasurable blow. "SHIT," I cry, throwing my head back into the mattress and screaming, and Gerard hits again. I'm quickly approaching my orgasm, and I know Gee is, too. 

 

Blow after blow, Gerard continuously hits my prostate, my screams filling the room as well as the slapping of skin and heavy, quick breathing. I cry dryly, my mouth wide open, and Gerard finally can't hold back anymore. He cums into me, the liquid warm, almost like a volcano. It's a weird description, but it's true. At the same time, I scream shrilly, like someone stabbed me with a fucking knife, and cum onto my stomach, onto the bed. It's embarrassing, yeah, but I'm so overcome with my orgasm that I don't pay too much mind to it. With a few more sloppy, quick thrusts, Gee pulls out. 

 

We're both panting and shaking and sweating, trying to recover from our orgasms, and Gee collapses onto the mattress besides me. I run my hands through my hair, breathing wildly, my heart pounding in my ears. Gerard is also breathing, though quickly and unsteadily. 

 

"Th-That was amazing," Gerard gasps, "I n-need to do this m-more often." I laugh breathlessly. "You should. Y-You're really good at it," I reply, not being able to remember the last time that sex was so good. Maybe it was the fact that there may have been some sort of affection behind that fuck session, but I had enjoyed it a lot. I wish that everyone was like Gee; he's really great at this. At making me feel special, good. 

 

I sit up and use a towel hanging on the doorknob to wipe off my stomach and the bed, and I pull my clothes back on quickly, my body sore and tired. I decide to take the rest of the night off. I pull back on my Converse, and turn around to see Gee shaking while buttoning his pants. I walk over and button them for him, and put his shirt on for him, too. He licks his lip in a steadying way, and then cups my face with one of his hands. "I'm not kidding you when I say that I loved that. That I love you. And I'm being completely serious. I mean, you're great at sex and all, but you have an amazing personality. I like you a lot," he admits sheepishly, and I redden slightly, the words filling me up like a warmth that'll never fade.

 

"I like you too. But that kind of relationship wouldn't work out, because, well..." I start, shrugging, and Gee leans in to kiss me once more. It's a gentle kiss, not full of lust or need. Just a real kiss. And for once, I feel like a normal person. A normal person that's kissing someone out of love and not for money or for fulfilling sexual needs. Someone who's in love with someone for who they are and not for anything else. "Thank you," he says, and he searches his pockets. He finds a thirty dollars, and tries to offer it to me, but I shake my head and refuse to take it. "Keep it. You're too good to pay for sex. Don't. Just keep it. Thank _you_ , actually. Thank you for everything," I reply graciously, and he hesitantly puts the money back into his pocket.

 

I grab my keys off of the dresser by the wall and pick up my bag, tossing it over my shoulder. Gerard and I walk down the stairs, and Gee waits for me while I tell my supervisor that I'm leaving for the night. But instead of saying that, something inside of me is done. Something inside of me is like fire, an ignited fire that won't burn out until something is done to put it out...

 

"And also," I add after telling him that I'm finished for the night, "I'm done with this job. It pays well, but I'm just not happy with it. It makes me feel so unclean. It's a really gross, dirty job. Sue me, bill me, do whatever you want. But I'm done with this shit." With that, I turn on my heel, leaving the supervisor speechless. I walk past the crowd of diminishing people, and with tiredness, I realize that it's really late. Gerard holds open the door for me, and the night air hits me coldly.

 

I shiver suddenly, since I'm wearing a tank top, and Gerard looks sideways at me. "Did you...?" he starts, but he doesn't have to finish for me to know what he was going to ask. I nod, assuring him that I did, indeed, quit. He smiles, and I can tell even though it's dark outside. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to exchange numbers? I saw some great comics in that box. We could be great friends."

 

I nod and smile.

 

"That we would be."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to do this work by some random online fanfiction I had read, but I can't remember the title. This is really way different. But anyways, I hope you guys like this. You are all so encouraging! I'll keep on updating as long as you keep on believing in my (I won't go My Chem on you... shit why'd I make that reference I'm gonna go cry in a corner now)
> 
> xoromanticizingchemicals


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